


We Did Not Meet on Craigslist (Except We Did): A Romantic Comedy

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Sulkygeek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29223360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: AU Rachel and Quinn meet via a Craigslist job ad. It's not as bad as it sounds because it is worse.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Comments: 5
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Title: We Did Not Meet on Craigslist (Except We Did): A Romantic Comedy**

**Author** : Sulkygeek 

**Rating** : R-ish 

**Length** : 8668 

**Spoilers** : Through Theatricality, but this is decidedly AU 

**Summary** : AU Rachel and Quinn meet via a Craigslist job ad. It's not as bad as it sounds because it is worse. 

**Chapter 1**

The long and short of it was that Quinn needed the money and though the ad on Craigslist seemed a little seedy, it also seemed kind of innocuous, too. A little on the desperate side, but sort of harmless at the same time There was just something about the tone of the ad that made Quinn believe that maybe it wasn't so bad, despite the fact that it read sort of like a pay-for-sex thing. She wasn't about to sell her body-- she was out of work, but she wasn't desperate. But she wasn't above sending an email asking for more information, either, because well, being out of work was being out of work and she had rent and bills to pay. 

It was one of those female seeking either male or female ads and it read: Platonic date needed for a wedding in three days, you'll be compensated monetarily to go with me to a wedding for several hours. Nothing overnight. Nothing sexual. Possible moderate displays of physical affection if necessary, but ideally not required. Only in case of emergency. Good for an acting exercise, if such a thing were to appeal to you. 

Quinn emailed the person on a whim, and within a few minutes got a reply back. 

_You do realize I was completely serious about the non-sexual component of this, correct._

Quinn was a little amused, and moderately less skeeved out. She continued to email with the woman and did a double take when she saw the compensation was going to be $10,000. She definitely planned on taking a pocket knife with her, just in case and she was really hoping she wasn't going to get raped and murdered for $10,000, but she had $8,000 on her Citibank card and she really needed to pay it off. 

She sent off an email. It read: 

_That is the ONLY reason why I emailed you. No funny stuff. I'm not into that_

Within minutes, there was another reply, and within the hour there were plans to meet for the next day. 

\--

Quinn walked into the Starbucks looking for the most unattractive person in the room. She was fairly certain that the person she was meeting was going to be some horribly unattractive woman who couldn't find a date to save her life, which was why she had to resort to a Craigslist ad with an offer for an exorbitant amount of cash for a few hours. But none of the women were horribly unattractive-- most of them were average in appearance and there were a few women who were outright beautiful. Quinn glanced at the clock on her phone. She was five minutes early so maybe her horribly unattractive potential date was running late. Probably because that person was morbidly obese with respiratory problems and had to sit down somewhere to catch her breath. 

She was contemplating getting a caffeinated beverage of some sort to look less conspicuous when she heard a soft, timid voice at her side. 

"Quinn?" 

Quinn looked to her right, fully expecting someone grossly unattractive, but instead, she saw a small-statured, really pretty brunette with high cheekbones and a clearly expensive haircut. She looked vaguely familiar, but Quinn couldn't place her. She was simply dressed in a pair of denim capris and a black turtle neck and it seemed like she was aiming for that simple, but classy Audrey Hepburn look. She'd more-or-less succeeded and Quinn could not believe that this was the person she was meeting. But she ventured a guess anyway. 

"Rachel?" 

Rachel nodded and blushed. "Could we..." her cheeks turned even more pink and she glanced around. "Go outside to talk?" she asked. 

"Sure." 

Rachel gave her a small grin. "Uh, do you want something? I'll get it." 

Quinn shrugged. "If it's your dime." 

"It is." 

They waited together in line, with Quinn ordering a toffee nut latte. Rachel ordered a chai tea latte and they walked outside together and sat down. 

"So..." Quinn said, because the silence was awkward. 

Rachel looked mortified. 

"So..." 

"So, why do you need a date bad enough to put on Craigslist?" Quinn asked bluntly. 

Rachel turned bright red. "Shh!" she said, leaning over the table toward Quinn. She glanced around to see if anyone heard, but no one was paying attention. 

"You just don't look like someone who'd have to resort to putting an ad online, especially something skeevy like Craigslist." 

Rachel blushed. "Yes, well..." she trailed off for a moment. "I'm fairly desperate, and dire straits call for desperate measures." 

"I'm don't think that's how the saying goes." 

"What saying?" 

"The one about desperate measures." 

"Dire straits is a more accurate description of my current state." 

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Is this some weird sex thing? Why are you paying so much? This isn't some weird pay for sex thing, is it? Because if you have some weird fetish that you can't ask your boyfriend or girlfriend, I sure as hell won't be the one to do it." 

Rachel was immediately crimson again. "No!" she exclaimed. She hunkered down in her seat when she saw that she was loud enough to call attention to herself. "It's for your discretion, and any possible expenses, like buying a new dress or shoes. And any lost wages that you may have earned if you work on Saturdays and need to ask for the time off. But mainly for your discretion." 

"Why, are you running for Congress or something in a few years?" 

Rachel snorted at that, and smiled genuinely for the first time, a full, wide bright smile. "Political aspirations are not in my plans, no. But I am an actress," she admitted. "Not well-known enough for anyone to care about me," she added quickly. 

"Anything I've seen?" 

Rachel shook her head. "Probably not. Mostly off-Broadway and a few Broadway parts. Not very interesting parts, either." 

Quinn squinted at Rachel. The brunette really did look familiar. 

"You sing?" 

"Yes." 

And then Quinn placed her. 

"Weren't you Fantine in Les Mis? I saw you last year, my ex took me." 

Quinn wasn't a Broadway person. She liked music-- a lot, actually, but Broadway musicals were never one of her interests. She did date a man who seemed to love them though so she'd seen a lot of them during the short time they dated. 

Rachel flushed and ducked her head. "Yes." 

"Oh." Quinn paused. "So why couldn't you bring one of your friends to this thing? Don't you have actor friends or an agency or something you could use for this sort of thing?" 

Rachel sighed. "It's kind of a long story." 

"I've got time. You know, being unemployed right now and all." 

"My ex-boyfriend's sister is getting married and I'm going to the wedding and--" 

"He's going to be there, so you want to make him jealous?" 

"He's dead," Rachel said bluntly. 

Quinn blanched. Talk about foot in mouth disease. "Sorry." 

"If I go alone to the wedding, his family is going to worry and I can't make them worry anymore. They've been after me for two years to date someone and they don't get that I just don't want to, and I don't have the time. I'm really busy, so I honestly don't have the time. Just pretend to be my girlfriend for the wedding and make them think, I don't know, that I can sustain a relationship." 

"Well, can you sustain a relationship?" 

Rachel scowled. "Of course I can!" 

"Then why don't you have a boyfriend or girlfriend to take to this soiree?" 

"Because I told you, I'm very busy," Rachel said, miffed. "Anyway. I don't want to sleep with you, you don't even have to kiss me. Just pretend to be my date--" 

"How can I believably pretend to be your date if I don't kiss you? Not that I want to, by the way. But I think people might become suspicious by the total absence of affection." 

"It's a wedding. I would think we'd be a little more discreet." 

"No one said I was going to taste your tonsils." 

Rachel wrinkled her nose in disdain. "That is a very unpleasant image. And I had mine taken out when I was 16." 

Quinn shrugged. "I'm just trying to lay down some parameters." 

Rachel gave a slight nod. "Okay," she said quietly. "I'm not sure how to...I mean, I've never done anything like this before," her gaze dropped. "I don't know, just pretend, okay? It's not like I've ever done this, I thought I'd have a date by now, but I don't. And if I take another platonic date to one of our functions, they're going to, like, stage an intervention or something. I can just feel it. They don't have a reason to be worried, I promise. And I'm not asking for anything serious. Just tell them you're happy with me and I'm happy with you. We'll eat some overpriced food, drink some wine, share a few dances, take a few pictures, you'll tell them I'm normal and not the freak they think I am. You have to be on your best behavior--" 

"I'm always on my best behavior. I'm not a six year old. I am very charming, you know." "You're not charming me right now," Rachel pointed out. 

"Then why are you still here?" 

Rachel crossed her arms. She huffed. "I talked to a few people on the phone and email and thus far, you're the only one who didn't want to meet at a bar, get me drunk and have sex with me in a public place," she admitted. She paused. "I had no idea posting an innocuous Craigslist ad would yield such mortifyingly depraved results from degenerates." 

Quinn couldn't help laugh. It really seemed like Rachel was aghast at the reactions her Craigslist ad brought, but it really did read like some pulp novel that ended in some pretty depraved acts in squalid conditions. 

"So nothing physical?" Quinn asked. She was pretty sure even if Rachel were secretly a depraved rapist or something, she could take Rachel. Then again, even if they were miniature the way Rachel was, the depraved were freakishly strong. 

Rachel shook her head emphatically. "No. Definitely not." 

"And it's just for one night?" 

"Well, Saturday afternoon through the evening. The wedding is at 3, and I anticipate that you'll be home no later than midnight." 

"And you're paying me this huge sum of money because you..." 

"Because you can't ever tell anyone about this. And because you really need to sell the fact that you like me. Do you have any acting experience?" 

Quinn shrugged. "Not really, but I can keep my mouth shut." 

"That'll have to do," Rachel said. She shifted uncomfortably. "I don't even care so much if you tell people, just as long as you don't tell anyone at the wedding. And like, don't post about this on the internet, because they'll find out and I'll never hear the end of it." 

Quinn was amused. "All right. So I'll tell my best friends, but I won't tell them it's you. And for ten grand, I'll make everyone at that wedding think that I think you're the best thing since sliced bread. How fancy is this wedding, by the way?" 

"Medium fancy," Rachel told her. "I bought a new dress, but I only spent about $200 on it. It was on sale. If you wanted to buy something nice, I think the sum I am paying you could more than cover it." 

"I agree," Quinn said. 

Rachel looked hesitant. "You really won't post it to the internet or anything?" 

"I believe in karma," Quinn said. "If you don't try anything funny with me, I won't do anything like that to you. I promise. I really need the money and you need a date. I think we can work something out." 

Rachel was relieved and she stuck her hand out. "I think so, too. Do we have a deal?" Quinn shook her hand. "Yes." 

\--

Rachel wrote her a check for $5000 which Quinn deposited immediately. It was the most money she had at one time in her account in a long time. Rachel emailed a document that was 45 pages long which detailed Rachel's life, her likes and dislikes, her interests and pet peeves, her resume and various other details. It was all things that someone who was dating her reasonably should have known, but it was detailed enough that Quinn felt like she knew Rachel better than people she'd known for over a decade. It was, however, lacking in the details about this now-deceased ex-boyfriend and why it was so important to Rachel that his family not worry about her. This was the thing that Quinn was most curious about. 

It did turn out, however, that they were both from Lima, Ohio, however. They emailed back and forth about that, and as far as Quinn could tell, Rachel hadn't lived in Lima since she was fourteen, because she started working on Broadway. 

In return, Quinn sent back a mini life history, which Rachel immediately complained wasn't detailed enough. But it really didn't matter how much Rachel knew about Quinn, because really, Quinn could tell people she was half Inuit and half Romanian (neither of which were true) and she floated into America on an iceberg. No one knew her, so all her details could be made up. Rachel, on the other hand, was known to those people and Quinn had to do a little homework. 

She was curious anyway, so she googled Rachel and found an article, just a tiny little blip in the New York Times online edition about the actress being involved in a fatal collision in which the driver, her boyfriend, passed away. It seemed the only reason that the newspaper even wrote about it was that the accident had tied up traffic for hours and Rachel had been acting in popular play which she had to step down from due to the broken bones she sustained in the accident. The details were fairly grisly and Quinn felt a little tug of empathy for the actress. Quinn also searched for Rachel on the Internet Broadway database. It turned out Rachel was fairly well known and pretty established. She even had a few award nominations under her belt. Unlike what Rachel claimed at Starbucks, Rachel had a variety of very interesting parts. Quinn had to admit she was a little impressed. And Rachel seemed way too timid and embarrassed about the whole thing to try anything skeevy, so Quinn thought it was the easiest money she'd ever make. Plus, it was a wedding, hello, free food, and Rachel guaranteed an open bar. 

The wedding was in Syosset, which was about a 45 minute drive. Rachel picked her up in front of her apartment, looking stunning. Once again, Quinn had to wonder how some attractive Broadway actress with a bona fide career would need to resort to some Craigslist ad. Quinn decided on the spot that though Rachel was extremely pretty, she was definitely really issue-y. Quinn was a psych major in college, and she could tell issue-y people right off the bat. Rachel was pinging her issue-dar like crazy at the moment. 

"You look very pretty," Rachel told Quinn. 

"Thanks," Quinn said. "So do you." 

"So who's getting married?" Quinn asked as they drove. "Your ex-boyfriend's sister, right? What's her name again?" 

"Jinny," Rachel explained. "She's my boyfriend, Devin's, little sister." 

It didn't take a psychology or English major to observe that Rachel was still talking about her ex in the present tense. 

"How old is she?" 

"Twenty-five." 

"Aren't you twenty four?" 

"Yes." 

"So she's older than you are. You made it sound like she was a little kid." 

Rachel smiled. "Sorry. Anyway. Her fiancÃ© is Seth. Her mom is Nora. Her dad is Stephen. They're very nice and you will, of course, be meeting them. Don't let any of them corner you and talk to you one and one though," she added. "They'll ask you a million questions and I swear to God, they're like bloodhounds and this whole thing will be rendered moot. Once, I smoked a cigarette when I was fifteen and hours later, Nora could like, smell it on me." 

"Got it," Quinn said. "Avoid one-on-one heart-to-hearts with your ex-boyfriend's family." Rachel gave a slight nod. "Yes." 

They drove along quizzing one another about each other's lives, and correcting their misapprehensions. It was all business. By the time they got to their destination, Rachel took a deep breath and turned to Quinn. 

"Thank you," Rachel said sincerely. "I don't really care what you do or what you say, just as long as you make them think I'm happy," she said softly. "Just tell them you're happy with me..." she paused. "Or at least that I'm not completely lacking," she joked, but there was an undeniable undercurrent of low self-reproach behind that. "And that I'm happy with you. That's all you need to do, okay? And the minute I drop you off, I'll write you another check for $5000 and you won't have to ever see me or talk to me again as long as you don't tell anyone about this." 

Quinn smiled reassuringly. "Hey, it's easy money and I really need it right now. And I promise, I won't screw you by telling anyone. I believe in karma, remember?" 

Rachel smiled at her. "Thanks." 

\--

Rachel passed her keys to the valet and then she and Quinn walked into the hotel together. Rachel gently took Quinn by the arm and went up to room 3303. 

She knocked on the door and within minutes it was flung open. 

"Rachel! Finally!" 

"Hi Jinny." 

Jinny, the bride, was not yet in her dress, but her makeup and hair was finished. She threw her arms around Rachel and Rachel chuckled. "Hey little sister," she murmured. 

The bride slapped Rachel's butt. "I'm older than you!" 

Rachel shrugged. She gestured to Quinn. "Jinny, this is my date, Quinn. Quinn Fabray." Jinny smiled warmly at Quinn and impulsively hugged Quinn as well. 

Quinn forced herself not to grimace. People who hugged strangers creeped her out. But she supposed a girl was entitled to do it on her wedding day. 

"Hi!" Jinny greeted. "Wow, I can't believe you actually exist." 

"Hey!" Rachel exclaimed, blushing. 

"Well!" Jinny said. She pulled the girls into the room. "You wouldn't tell me who your date was for like, two months and then you tell me two days ago that you really are bringing a date! I thought it was going to be like that time last year when we invited you for drinks and you said you were bringing some new guy you were seeing but then you called an hour before to cancel and said you had food poisoning." 

"I did have food poisoning!" Rachel exclaimed, defending herself whilst simultaneously exchanging hugs and greetings with the other women in the room. They were the maid of honor and other bridesmaids. She'd been asked to be a bridesmaid, of course, but she didn't think a dead brother's girlfriend was an auspicious choice 

for a bridesmaid and declined. She didn't bother to deny that there really had been some new guy she was seeing, because honestly, there really hadn't been. 

"You were on stage singing later that night." 

"I recover very quickly." 

"You said you felt like you were dying." 

"I may have been prone to a bit of hyperbole-- in that instance only." 

Jinny chuckled. "Whatever." She banged on the door to the bathroom. "Mom! Rachel and her date are here." There was the sound of the water running and then stopping and then a woman emerged from the restroom. "I know, darling," she said wryly. "I heard you." 

Jinny's mother pulled Rachel into a hug and stroked the brunette's face. "Thank you for coming." "I wouldn't have missed it," Rachel said sincerely. "Nora, this is my date, Quinn Fabray." Quinn felt uneasy as Nora gazed at her, very appraisingly. 

"How long have you two been dating?" Nora asked. 

"Six months," Rachel and Quinn said in unison in a way that came across as practiced, because it was. "Is it serious?" 

"Medium serious," Rachel and Quinn said together. 

Nora raised an eyebrow. "Rachel, I'm talking to Quinn." 

"But--" 

"Rachel." 

Rachel pouted. "Sorry." 

Nora turned to Quinn. "What's Rachel's favorite color?" 

"Gold." 

"Favorite Broadway musical?" 

"RENT." 

"Favorite TV show?" 

"She claims it's House, but I think it's really the Real Housewives of New Jersey" 

Rachel never said anything about that, but Rachel looked like the kind of person who was a closet fan of that show. 

"Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed, cheeks tinged with pink. 

"What? I'm sure it's true." 

"Favorite food?" 

"Trick question, she doesn't have a favorite food, she thinks food is a waste of money because it all ends up in the ocean." 

"Favorite flavor?" 

"Grape." 

"Favorite song?" 

"Defying Gravity." 

"Best quality?" 

Quinn pretended to think. "Big vocabulary," she said with a straight face. But it was really a bluff, because she really had no idea what it was. But Rachel did seem to have a big vocabulary and Quinn did sort of like it, once she got used to it. 

Still, it worked, because everyone smiled. 

"Worst quality?" 

"A predilection toward paratactic ramblings," Quinn said, because she had a pretty big vocabulary, too. "I do not!" Rachel interjected. "I--" 

"She's not a call girl," Nora told Jinny. 

"What?!" Rachel and Quinn asked together. 

Rachel looked aghast. 

Jinny was amused. "Mom thought you were going to hire someone to be your date so we'd finally get off your back about dating again. She saw a job ad on Craigslist and she thought it looked like something you'd write. She sent it to me but I told her it was probably just some pervert trying to lure women to his torture lair in his basement dungeon." 

Rachel had visibly paled. "Haha, that's hilarious," she said. "Isn't that funny?"she asked, looking at Quinn. "Haha, Rachel," Quinn said. 

"Haha, Quinn." 

Rachel took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Okay. Well, I think Quinn and I are going to take our seats. Do you guys need anything?" 

Nora, Jinny and the other women in the room shook their heads. 

"Okay, then." Rachel grabbed Quinn by the hand and bolted. 

\--

Once they were safely outside the room, with the door closed, Rachel dropped Quinn's hand and flung herself against a wall. 

"Oh. My. God," she breathed. "They're onto us" 

"They're not onto us," Quinn said. "Her mom said I'm not a call girl. I'm not sure if I should be insulted or not, by the way." 

Rachel covered her face with her hands. "Oh my God!" 

Quinn took Rachel's hand. "Calm down and pull yourself together," she said firmly. "I saw some water in the lobby, let's go get some, okay?" 

Rachel nodded. "Okay." 

\--

The wedding itself was short and sweet. Rachel cried and Quinn found herself preventing herself from rolling her eyes. She passed Rachel some tissue and Rachel took it gratefully. Quinn glanced around and saw people were eyeing them so she patted Rachel's arm and then put her arm around Rachel and pulled her in close. Quinn couldn't remember ever sitting so close together with someone who was a stranger. 

"I'm a bit uncomfortable," Rachel admitted, whispering into Quinn's ear. "Are you?" "Yes." 

"I'm sorry," Rachel whispered. 

"It's okay," Quinn whispered back. 

And it was, because, really, it was a little uncomfortable, but it was ten freaking grand and Rachel was sweet and seemed completely harmless. There seemed worse ways to make some money. 

\--

The dinner and reception were a whole other matter, however. Everyone came by to talk to Rachel and by extension, everyone talked to Quinn as well. Rachel was sweetly solicitous and attentive towards her and for a while, Quinn thought that Rachel's act was a little much-- until she saw that Rachel treated everyone that way and realized it was just Rachel's personality. Most people gushed over Rachel's career, and Rachel clearly loved that attention-- she loved talking about work. But a few people-- the ones who Rachel almost imperceptibly winced when she saw them coming near-- they were inappropriately personal, bringing up Devin and talking about what a tragedy it was that there would never been a wedding between Devin and Rachel. Quinn felt herself becoming insulted on principle, because hello, she was Rachel's date. Rachel smiled and went along with it, but Quinn had seen the way Rachel spoke so warmly to other people, so she could also see it when Rachel seemed uncomfortable. Then somewhere in the middle of all of it, Quinn turned to refer back to Rachel on some mundane matter and saw that Rachel was gone. 

"I'll have to get back to you on that one," Quinn told the older gentleman who asked if Rachel had any plans to take a break when her current show ended its run in a few months. 

Quinn waited. And waited. And waited. And the entire time, people came up to her to ask about Rachel, to ask her personal questions and she gritted her teeth and toughed it out. 

"She's great," Quinn told everyone. "I'm very lucky to have met her." 

She waxed poetic about how great Rachel was, how sweet, and told everyone the fake story of how they met (in a bookstore, Quinn had no idea who Rachel was, they got to talking and Rachel asked Quinn out, which was the part of the story that everyone seemed to have a hard time believing, and even Quinn herself found it sort of hard to believe and she wished she'd been able to convince Rachel to say it was Quinn who asked Rachel out, but Rachel just seemed adamant that she wanted to be the one to ask Quinn out).

But really, she was going to kill Rachel. 

Quinn slipped away discreetly to search for Rachel and found the brunette standing outside in the garden where the ceremony had been held. 

"Rachel." 

Rachel turned around to see Quinn and winced. "Oh! God. I'm sorry. Was I gone long?" 

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, when did you slip off? I noticed you were gone about thirty minutes ago though." 

Rachel winced again. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "It was just really overwhelming for me... too many people asking too many questions." 

"Aren't you an actress? Shouldn't you be used to this sort of thing?" 

Rachel nodded. "Yes, but they're asking me personal questions. And just being kind of inappropriate." 

"They're asking me personal questions and being inappropriate with me, too! This is your friend's wedding, so you should be the one experiencing all this discomfort! You! Not me!" 

"I'm sorry," Rachel said sincerely. "Let's go back." 

"Let's not go back right away," Quinn said. "They're all really nice, but they all really want to talk to you, too. It's a little much." 

"See? That's why I needed to get away for a minute. I wish I smoked or something, but if Nora ever caught me smoking, she'd beat me." 

"She'd really beat you?" 

"Probably not," Rachel admitted. "But she'd tell my mother and my mother might. It's bad for my voice. Shelby-- that's my mother, she wouldn't so much care about the effect on my health as she would on my voice." 

"Hm," Quinn said noncommittally. "So you seem really close to them. Your ex's family, I mean." 

"I am," Rachel said with a nod. "They kind of adopted me as their own. They're into strays or something. You should see their house, it's like watching an episode of Animal Planet." 

"You like animals?" 

"Not really," Rachel said. "I had a fish once, but I kind of forgot about it and it died." 

Quinn was amused. "Yeah, I'm not a big animal person either. But I can't say that I ever killed an animal through neglect." 

"I was just really busy, Quinn." 

"It wasn't a judgment, Rachel." 

They shared a tiny smile and then Quinn spoke again. 

"You went through a lot of trouble for something that seems so simple. I mean don't you have any friends who could have pretended to be your date?" Quinn had asked this before, of course, but now that she spent some time with Rachel and saw how eager people were to talk to the brunette, she just couldn't imagine that Rachel would be so desperate for a date that she'd have to resort to paying for one. After all, there had to be some Broadway groupie out there who would have done it for free. It just seemed completely bizarre to her. It just didn't fit. 

Rachel shrugged. "I love them," she said simply. "I'll let a few months pass by, and then I'll tell them things with you didn't work out. They know most of my close friend-- both of them anyway, and I didn't want to bring a friend to this and risk having them in the same room again later. I needed someone they weren't likely to see again, hence the reason I had to resort to such a humiliating tactic. I just needed to do something to put their minds at ease. They worry way too much about me." 

"They really love you." 

Rachel smiled fondly. "Yeah," she said. Her smiled dimmed slightly. "It's nice, but it's a lot of pressure. They just worry about me all the time. And it just feels weird because he was their son, their brother, their grandson, their nephew, you know? But they just keep pushing me to date again and it's like, God, I can't believe they love me enough that they'd want me to be happy without him. And I am happy and I am fine, I really am. I actually really love my life and the reason I'm not dating really is that I'm just busy and I haven't met anyone worth getting even busier for, you know? But they don't understand that, because they're all relationship people and they don't think I can be happy without being in a relationship. But I can be. I'm happier just being on my own right now." 

"You're not over him?" Quinn asked quietly. She'd googled Rachel so she knew that her ex had died three years ago. That seemed like a long time, numerically, anyway, but Quinn also knew from personal experience that it something that seemed like a long time to other people didn't necessarily feel like a long time to the person going through it. 

Rachel shrugged. "I don't know. No. Yes. Maybe." She was irritated. "We were broken up when he died. His family doesn't know that." She shifted guiltily. "His family has been really good to me," she said quietly. "I'm not...close with my family. They love me and they don't have to, so I don't want to make them worry more than they should." 

"Why aren't you close to your family?" 

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "What are you, a psych major?" 

"Actually, I was, yes. I think that's why I haven't been able to find a new job in three months. It's very Avenue Q." Quinn paused, because she now had that ridiculous Avenue Q theme stuck in her head. 

Rachel chuckled. "I have two gay dads," she said. "And I found my biological mom when I was 15. It... changed everything. My fathers practically had a shrine to me, but they were mostly absentee parents, you know? They showed up to the most important stuff, and ignored me the rest of the time. My mother--" Rachel sighed. "I mean, she's my mother, but we're mostly just friends. But me wanting her so much kind of put some friction between me and my dads and it's never really went away. I really haven't lived with them since I was fourteen anyway, so that kind of make things worse. I don't have any brothers or sisters, and I felt so far away from my family, that I kind of got adopted by Devin's." 

Quinn nodded. "Oh." She paused. "His family seems really understanding, why don't you just tell them that you're okay?" 

Rachel shrugged. "I tell them all the time, they just don't believe me. They think I'm grieving, or something but I'm not" 

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "What are you then, if you aren't grieving?" 

Rachel shrugged again. "Taking a break, I guess. When Devin died, I was 21 and hadn't been single since I was fourteen years old. I've changed a lot since then, you know" 

Quinn smiled. "I should hope so." She paused. "What's the biggest way you've changed since then?" "Boobs," Rachel said with a straight face. 

Quinn stared at her for a moment and then laughed. "Boobs?" 

"I'm no longer a double A cup." 

Quinn smiled. "So if you'd shown your breasts on stage back then--" 

"It would have been so unimpressive that no one would have noticed. They may have just assumed I was wearing a flesh-colored costume." 

Quinn laughed again. "Well, if you showed your breasts on stage now, I'm sure it'd be very impressive." 

"I'm sure it'd end up on YouTube," Rachel said dryly. She and Quinn shared a smile. "So, what's your story? Close to your family?" 

"Not particularly no," Quinn said. 

"Why's that?" 

"Oh, you know, uptight Christian parents, pregnant teenager, the usual." 

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "You were a pregnant teenager?" 

Quinn shrugged. "Yeah." 

Rachel held up her hand. "Go irresponsible teenagers," she said with a tiny smile. "We have that in common." Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Do we?" 

Rachel gave her a lopsided smile. "Yes." 

"Did you keep yours?" 

Rachel snorted. "Are you kidding me? I was fifteen and five months away from my sixteenth birthday. My mother made me get an abortion, she drove me to it. She said she'd beat it out of me if I didn't." 

Quinn was appalled. "What?" 

Rachel gave her a slight smile. "I don't think she would have actually beaten it out of me," Rachel said. "She just wanted me to have a career, and I'm glad she did. Don't tell anyone though because my dads would kill me if they ever found out." She paused. "Did you have yours?" 

"Yes," Quinn said softly. 

"Oh," Rachel said. "Um..." 

"I gave her up," Quinn said. "I couldn't handle it. I mean, all I wanted was to get out of Lima and I wouldn't have been able to with a baby attached to my hip. Some people are good with staying there their whole lives, and that's fine. But it was not what I wanted and I was desperate to leave since I was in middle school. I really thought I had a good chance of being able to leave and not having to come back. I mean, plenty of people go away to college, but they always end up coming back to Lima and that's not what I wanted. I couldn't keep her-- if I did, I'd still be there. I never would have been able to leave." 

Rachel nodded."My mom says that giving me away was the hardest moment of her life," Rachel said. "I'm sure it was difficult for you, too." 

"It was," Quinn said softly. 

"But it was probably the right choice. For both of you." 

"It was," Quinn said quietly. "But sometimes, I really want her back. I know she's better off, and that's the most important thing, but sometimes, I want her back. I know I'm better off, too, but she's a piece of me, and she's out there somewhere." 

"You didn't do an open adoption? Isn't that the most customary thing to do now?" 

"It's encouraged," Quinn agreed. "But I couldn't do it. I thought about it, but I just couldn't stand the idea of seeing her grow up and seeing her call someone else mom. I mean, she was mine and I didn't want her, but I hated giving her away. I know it wasn't a mistake to give her away, but sometimes it still feels like one. I mean, if I saw her walking around, would I even recognize her? Sometimes, I feel like I would and other times I feel like I already have walked right by her and not even known it." 

It was weird to be telling the story of one of her most difficult periods in life to a total stranger. But sometimes it was easier to tell a complete stranger the most intimate secrets and Quinn had experienced this first hand when an elderly woman told her about the daughter she was going to visit in prison and the grandchild that had been removed from the daughter by child protective services whom she'd never met, and never would. 

They lapsed into silence for a while and then Rachel put her hand on Quinn's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

"Even if she'd been allowed to keep me, my mother said she would have done a very poor job raising me and she was twenty-one when I was born, older than you were. She was in college and needed the money because she wanted to move out here, actually, after graduation. She never really wanted me-- but she always said there was no way she would have ever been able to give me what my fathers gave me, even if she wanted me. My mother-- Shelby, she's a great singer and really detail-oriented." Rachel paused. "She's also really good at hemming pants and so am I, so I got a lot of thing things from her, too-- as I'm sure your daughter got from you. But it was a good thing my mother gave me up-- she's not very maternal, and it's probably a good thing you did, too. Not because you lack a maternal instinct," Rachel added hastily, "But because you weren't ready. Good intentions only go so far." 

"Yeah," Quinn said softly. "And my daughter and I are both out of Lima, and I really wanted both of us to be able to get out." She sighed. "All I wanted was out of Lima," she whispered. 

Rachel nodded. "I can understand that. I mean, I guess Lima is home, because my fathers and my mother live there still. But I left when I was fourteen because I got this part on Broadway, but I was desperate to get out. I get a little nostalgic for it sometimes, but I think that's only because I've had enough distance to be okay with missing it." 

"I don't miss it at all," Quinn said. "I'm never going back there if I don't have to." 

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Was is really that tough to live there? It doesn't seem like it was. I read what you sent me over email." 

Quinn grimaced. "It wasn't so much the town, it's my family. No one in my family has really spoken to me since I was in high school" 

"Oh," Rachel said. She paused. "I'm sorry," she said sympathetically. "That must have been so hard and lonely." 

"Well, it's not your fault." 

"It's not that I felt that I caused your problems, Quinn. It is just that when conveying empathy, it's customary to say 'I'm sorry,' to demonstrate an appropriate degree of warmth even if one is not in a position in which she needs to feel apologetic." 

"Your Wikipedia entry said you were weirdly verbose." 

The moment Quinn said it, she wished she could take it back. 

Rachel was horrified. "You Wikipediaed me?" 

Quinn winced. "Yes," she admitted. "But I just wanted to make sure you weren't some weird deviant!" Rachel made a face. "The picture they have is really unflattering." 

"Why don't you change it?" 

"I do, but someone keeps changing it back!" 

Quinn laughed. "The picture isn't that bad." 

"I'm mid-sneeze." 

"Well, you aren't much bigger than a sneeze, so I guess it's fitting." 

They sat in the quiet for a few minutes until Quinn sighed. They should get back. 

"Come on," Quinn said standing up. "Let's get back inside before they think I kidnapped you." 

Rachel smiled and stood up. They walked back into the hotel, walking close but not touching. But once they got to the banquet room, they linked arms right before Rachel opened the door and gestured for Quinn to go inside first. 

\--

Quinn thought it was the easiest money ever made. Rachel was insanely respectful of her space-- almost too respectful and Quinn no longer had any worries that Rachel was actually some sexually deviant psychopath. She was just too...sweet. The food was delicious, the drinks were free and the music was great. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood and if there was any wedding drama, Quinn wasn't privy to it. 

Once they got back into the banquet room, they played a video of a collection of pictures of bride and groom from childhood through adulthood set to music-- a standard wedding thing. Rachel started featuring prominently when Rachel and Jinny were in their mid teens and Quinn had to smile when she saw a picture of Rachel and Jinny hugging after a 5K race. A tall dark-haired man often had his arm around Rachel in those pictures and because of his resemblance to Jinny, Quinn immediately identified him as Devin. People sniffled a little every time one of his pictures came up and Quinn glanced to see if Rachel was all right, but saw that the brunette's expression was blank-- too blank, the brunette was expressionless. The last picture of Devin was one in which he was pictured with Rachel, Jinny and Seth. It was just an ordinary picture, nothing special-- four people, two couples sitting on a couch, but Quinn heard Rachel release a low moan and Quinn glanced at Rachel to see that the brunette was blinking back tears. 

"You okay?" Quinn whispered, putting her hand on Rachel's thigh. 

Rachel stiffened and Quinn moved her hand away. "Sorry," Quinn apologized. 

"I'm okay," Rachel whispered back. She smiled at Quinn. "Thanks," she said, reaching out to pat Quinn's knee. 

The video finished and people began milling around again. Jinny, the bride; Seth, the groom and Jinny's parents, Nora and Stephen joined Rachel and Quinn at their table. 

Rachel put her arm around Quinn and drew the blonde in close. "Hi guys," Rachel greeted. "Stephen, you haven't met Quinn yet, right?" 

The man smiled. "No. It's nice to meet you, Quinn." 

Quinn smiled back. He seemed sweet. "It's nice to meet you, too." 

"Has our girl been good to you?" he asked with a grin. 

"Stephen," Rachel sighed. 

Quinn chuckled. "She's been very good," she agreed. "She's always been good to me the entire time I've known her." 

It wasn't a lie, Rachel really had been good to her throughout the entire time they'd known each other. It was just that they could count the length of their acquaintanceship in hours. 

They chatted a little longer and Quinn could tell they all liked her -- as long as she was properly and convincingly adoring of Rachel, they'd like her. She could tell that. 

Then the lights in the banquet room dimmed and they wheeled out the cake. It was a sweetly clichÃ© moment, because they began to play a Sarah McLachlan song ("I Love You") and the spotlight was on the bride and groom. Rachel watched with a wide, genuine smile and Quinn thought about how it was nice to meet someone who could be genuinely happy for someone else. 

The cake was delicious--possibly the best Quinn ever tasted. Rachel nabbed an extra piece and they giggled at the subterfuge as they shared the extra slice. Quinn had to admit that in spite of the concerns she had about the evening, it was definitely not a bad way to pass the time. 

They left around midnight, brushing off concerns that it was too late to drive. Rachel hadn't touched any alcohol the entire night and drank a cup of coffee before they left, so Quinn wasn't worried. And anyway, midnight wasn't all that late. Quinn was an insomniac and she knew she'd be up for a few more hours. 

Unlike on the drive over to the wedding, in which their talk was all business and getting to know one another for the purposes of really selling the idea they were a couple, they talked amiably about a variety of topics on the drive back. Quinn didn't feel any pressure this time. 

"So do you really love what you do?" Quinn asked. 

"Absolutely," Rachel said 

"I didn't get that impression from your Wikipedia page. I mean, I just skimmed it. But it said you caught a lot of flak because you look cranky a lot." 

"That's just how my face is. The person who wrote that just hates me, I think." 

Quinn laughed. "Mine, too, if we're being honest." 

Rachel chuckled. "Nora pulled me aside and told me you were really pretty and seemed very nice, so I don't think you do look that cranky." 

"Well, tell her I said 'thanks.'" 

"I will," Rachel said with a smile. "So," Rachel said. "Are you doing what you want to be doing? Career-wise, I mean." 

Quinn made a face. "I told you, I'm kind of between jobs right now. But I was doing research on clinical trials. You know, because I majored in psych. But I didn't like it. I kind of quit on a whim because it was burning me out but I haven't been able to find anything yet and honestly, I have no idea what to do." 

"Well, you're what? 24?" 

"Yeah." 

"I think that's okay. You just need to figure out what you want to do." 

"That's easy coming from you. At least you have a legitimate career." 

Rachel looked at her. "Well, what do you want to do?" 

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know. When I was in college, I just chose Psych because I got one of those 'Dear Undeclared Junior' letters. I was good in math, but I didn't want to major in it and even though it would have been safer to major in business or accounting or something, I didn't think I could do it for a career. I don't mind boring, but I honestly didn't think I'd be able to handle it in terms of the function, like I wouldn't have been able to be competent at it. So I chose psych." 

"You don't have any interests or anything? I've known what I wanted to do since I was four." 

"I liked art," Quinn admitted. "You know, drawing, painting, that kind of thing. I mean, I mostly just doodled, but I liked it." 

Rachel smiled at her. "So you like art. Get into art." 

"It's not that simple. I'm not going to like, trace a picture of a bear and mail it in and get a degree." "Can't you take a few classes? Even at a community college, you know, just as a refresher." "I don't know," Quinn said. "Maybe." 

"Well, do you still draw or paint or sketch or anything?" 

"Yeah," Quinn said. "But like I said, I'm not sure what kind of career I'd have out of it." 

They were quiet for a while until Rachel spoke again. "Hey, how did you know I love the Real Housewives of New Jersey?" 

Quinn laughed. "You just seemed like someone who'd love it but be embarrassed about liking it." "I am a little embarrassed for myself," Rachel admitted. 

"You should be, that show is awful," Quinn said. 

Rachel laughed. "Do you watch it?" 

"Sometimes," Quinn admitted grudgingly. "But you're an actress, shouldn't you have better taste?" 

"I'm not really known for having good taste in much of anything," Rachel admitted. "Not clothes, music, TV shows, dates..." she smiled and it was almost flirty. "I guess I'm pretty good at choosing a fake Craigslist date, but I'm not certain that is something I want to brag about." 

Quinn smiled back. "Not everyone has that talent." 

The topic drifted to other TV shows they liked and they realized they had a lot of the same interests in TV. The forty-five minute car ride was over much too quickly. 

"Thank you," Rachel said with a beaming smile when she pulled in front of Quinn's apartment. "They really liked you. I could tell. They're sure to leave me alone about the subject of dating for a while now." 

"What if they want me to come out with you or something?" 

Rachel shrugged. "I'll figure something out. It's plausible that you wouldn't be able to make some dinner night or for drinks, but it's highly implausible you wouldn't reschedule for something like this, you know?" 

Quinn nodded. "Yeah, I guess" 

"Anyway," Rachel said. "Thank you for being so kind to my family. And thank you for being discreet." She opened her purse, pulled out her wallet and took out another check for $5000. She passed it to Quinn. "Really," she said. "Thank you. You have no idea how you saved my life tonight." 

Quinn hesitated before she took it. "Why pay so much? I mean, I'm sure a lot of people would have done it for free just to hang out with you and get some free food and drinks." 

Rachel shrugged. "It's like I told you, I've never done anything like this before," she admitted. "I wasn't sure what was considered appropriate recompense and $10,000 seemed like a good enough number. I admit it was somewhat arbitrarily chosen, however." 

Quinn folded the check in half and played with it for a moment before held it up, as if to contemplate it. "Do you want to go out sometime?" Quinn asked suddenly. 

Rachel's forehead furrowed. "Go out where? Outside? It's very late, Quinn. I think it's more advisable you go up to your apartment and go to bed." 

Quinn sighed. God, Rachel was so bad at this. 

"Do you want to go out with me?" Quinn repeated slowly. "On a date," Quinn added because it seemed like she'd have to in order for Rachel to get it. 

Rachel stared at her for a moment, stunned. And then she took a deep breath. "I think," she said wryly. "You'd be better off taking that check and running." 

Quinn nodded contemplatively. "I agree," she said. "You're issue-y. But I like issue-y." "Former psych major who likes to mend people because she can't fix herself?" 

"Hey." 

"I took a couple of psych classes, too," Rachel said with a shrug. "But that was through the local junior college when I was in high school to make up some credits..." she trailed off to prevent herself from telling the whole story of missing too much school because of her career. It wasn't as though Quinn asked. "I am..." she blew out a breath. "Really flattered you'd ask. You don't have any idea how much. But I'm not even remotely dateable at this juncture. And not because I'm hung up on my ex. There are so many other reasons." 

Quinn gave a slight nod, unable to tell if she was getting the brush-off or if Rachel was being sincere. 

"Well," Quinn said. "Thanks for an interesting evening." She opened the car door to get out, but Rachel reached out to stop her, her hand coming to rest on Quinn's shoulder. 

"Quinn." 

Quinn turned. "Yeah?" 

"Keep my number?" Rachel asked, her voice hopeful. 

Quinn smiled. "Sure." 

"Really?" Rachel asked quietly. "You won't...like, lose it or something?" 

"I'll keep it," Quinn assured. 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Quinn didn't hear from Rachel for a few months and she didn't call Rachel, either. She really didn't think about Rachel at all, until the entire city was once again taken over by the Wicked craze. The posters were everywhere, and everyone was talking about the girl who played Elphaba, who was allegedly phenomenal. The tickets were selling out like crazy. Quinn was only vaguely interested, and she heard that they were going to extend its run, so she planned on seeing it then, when the craze died down a little. Until she saw Rachel being interviewed on TV. 

"Holy crap!" Quinn exclaimed. She was late for work, but she watched it anyway. She'd found gainful employment at NYU in the Psychology Department, helping grad students. It wasn't what she wanted, but she didn't know what the hell she did want, and she needed a job. Rachel's money got her out of debt, but without a job, she'd go right back in, and the next time she trolled Craigslist looking for a job, she probably wouldn't find someone as nice as Rachel. 

She watched the interview and was astounded that Rachel was fucking Elphaba. 

She called Rachel during her lunch break and Rachel picked up after a few rings. 

"This is Rachel." 

"This is Quinn," Quinn said, imitating Rachel's tone. 

Rachel paused. "Quinn Fabray?" 

"Yes," Quinn said. "I saw you on TV this morning." 

Rachel groaned. "Did I look and sound like a chipmunk?" 

Quinn suppressed a smile. "Only a little bit," she said. But it was only because Rachel was smiling so hard, and clearly giddy and she sounded excited the whole time. 

"It's good to hear from you," Rachel said. 

Quinn smiled. "I wanted to congratulate you. I didn't know you were Elphaba!" 

"Thank you," Rachel said. "It's funny, but I was just thinking about you this morning." "You were? Why?" 

Rachel sighed. "Stephen and Nora...do you remember them?" 

"Of course." 

"I told them we broke up a couple months ago-- they kept asking about you, so I had to. They called me this morning before my interview to wish me luck and they wanted to know how to get in touch with you. They said they'd pay you to marry me." The pout was evident in Rachel's voice. "They've known me since I was fifteen and they meet you once and already they like you better than me." 

Quinn laughed. "How much are they willing to pay me to marry you?" she joked. 

Rachel laughed as well. "Not enough," she said. She took a deep breath. "Hey, have you seen my show yet?" 

"No," Quinn said. "Honestly, I'm not that into Broadway and I was going to see it maybe when the craze had died down. It's crazy getting tickets." 

"Well, my dads were going to come see me tonight, but they forgot that they'd planned this couples' getaway in Atlantic City, so now I have these extra tickets. They're good tickets. Do you want them? If you don't want to come, you could sell them." 

"Are you inviting me or are you just pawning off these tickets on me?" 

"I'm inviting you." 

"Then I'll go." 

\--

Quinn didn't like it when there were too many people around her at concerts, movie theatres, plays or anything in general. She liked people well enough, and didn't mind crowds, but she hated it when some asshole took up the entire armrest. The seat she had was phenomenal and it was embarrassing, but she found herself totally engrossed. She held her breath every time Rachel sang. She really loved it, which was weird because she totally hated the Wizard of Oz movie. Something about the Cowardly Lion bugged her and the Tinman was creepy. But Wicked was awesome and Rachel was...so impressive. Looking through the Playbill, Rachel looked so much younger than the rest of the cast-- Rachel had kind of a young face anyway, she could easily be mistaken for an older teenager. Quinn just knew, despite her unfamiliarity with the world of Broadway, Rachel was special. 

Quinn admired that. 

\--

After the show, Rachel got her backstage and she introduced Quinn around. 

"My mother is here," Rachel whispered in Quinn's ear. "Do you want to meet her?" 

Quinn shrugged. "Why not?" 

Rachel was the spitting image of her mother and her mother could not have looked more proud or pleased. Rachel made introductions. 

"It's nice to meet you," Quinn said politely. 

Shelby Cocoran raised an eyebrow. "Is it?" she asked, a smile ghosting against her lip.

"More interesting, I guess," Quinn said bluntly, because it seemed like Rachel's mother, much like Rachel, was into blunt. 

Shelby smiled widely. "It's nice to meet you, Quinn. How do you know Rachel?" 

"We're friends. Sort of." 

She made idle conversation with Rachel's mother while Rachel seemed like she was being pulled into twenty five different directions. She was clearly flustered and frustrated and Shelby eyed Rachel with concern. 

"She needs to toughen up a bit," Shelby said bluntly when she saw Quinn looking at her questioningly. 

"Maybe people should just get off her back for a second and let her breathe," Quinn said, feeling the need to defend Rachel. 

Shelby smiled. "It wasn't a judgment of Rachel," Shelby said. "She's an actress and if she were the type satisfied with mediocrity, then she wouldn't need to get accustomed to a lot of demands. Unfortunately, my daughter is still prone to anxiety and becoming overwhelmed by all this. She needs to toughen up." 

Quinn scowled. "Maybe they just need to leave her alone." 

"But they won't." 

Rachel rejoined them and Quinn's conversation with Rachel's mother was abruptly cut off. 

The trio talked for a while and then Shelby touched Rachel's cheek. "I'm going back to the hotel," she said. "Why don't you go out with your girlfriend? We can have breakfast tomorrow before your matinee show. Bring her along." 

Rachel smiled. "We aren't dating, Shelby." 

"Nora said you were." 

Rachel blanched. "We aren't dating anymore," she amended. 

Shelby raised an eyebrow. "Bring her along anyway." She glanced at Quinn. "Are you available for breakfast tomorrow?" 

"I'll try to make it," Quinn said. 

"Just make it." 

Shelby gave a wave and then left. 

"Very smooth, Rachel," Quinn said. "Remind me never to ask you to concoct a plan and follow through with it." 

Rachel crossed her arms. "Sorry," she huffed. 

\--

As a child and for the bulk of her teen years, Quinn led a life that was always surrounded by people. But as an adult, she was a little more selective about the people she filled her life with. She'd discovered most people were assholes, and she didn't want to be around assholes, so needless to say, she led a pretty lonely life. But she was okay with that. 

Going out with Rachel and some of her castmates for an after-show late night dinner and drinks, Quinn saw that Rachel was surrounded by people all the time. Quinn thought about her own aspirations, at one time, for stardom. She used to love it when people looked at her because she could see envy, admiration. Desire. But she got pregnant, kicked out and rejected and when people looked at her, it was with pity. People laughed at her, whispered about her, and ignored her. She didn't like attention anymore, and she had no idea how anyone handled it when it was constant and relentless. That high school experience taught her that while she could handle admiration and adulation, she couldn't handle criticism. She could have handled fame, but she doubted she could handle anything negative lobbed her way. Rachel seemed to handle criticism with grace, however. 

The Glinda to Rachel's Elphaba was a tiny blonde who was even shorter than Rachel, which Quinn didn't think was possible. Glinda claimed to be "five foot nothing, exactly," but Quinn suspected that as with most short women, Glinda was lying. Glinda plopped herself in Rachel's lap during a round of after-dinner drinks and Quinn found herself frowning at the sight of Glinda molesting Elphaba, but mainly because Rachel seemed uncomfortable and Glinda didn't seem to notice or care. 

After drinks, Rachel and Quinn shared a cab. 

"Your friends are nice," Quinn said. 

"They are," Rachel agreed. 

"Thanks for the ticket." 

Rachel smiled at her. "For the twelfth time. You're welcome." 

Quinn blushed, feeling uncharacteristically embarrassed for herself. "Well, I know a couple of my coworkers who are dying to see it, and they'd die of envy if they knew I scored a free ticket." 

"Do you want some more?" Rachel asked. "How many do you need?" 

Quinn scoffed. "Those people? They're assholes. Please. Let them be jealous." 

Rachel laughed. "Well, if you change your mind. Give me a call. I don't know, don't you have friends or something in the city who wouldn't mind a couple of free tickets?" 

Quinn was amused. "Aren't those tickets hard enough to get without you trying to give them away to me?" Rachel blushed. "Thanks for coming," she said. 

"Thanks for inviting me. You were great," Quinn said sincerely. "Seriously. I really liked it. And it's really not my thing, usually." 

Rachel smiled. "It's my entire life," she admitted. "I mean, not this particular part, because I still haven't played any of the parts that I really want to play. But my career is my entire life right now. I don't really have anything else," she confessed. 

"Doesn't that, I don't know, get dull?" Quinn asked curiously. "I don't necessarily know what I want to do for the rest of my life, but I know I don't want my entire life to revolve around work." 

Rachel shrugged. "I'm not sure I know how not to do that. My work is my life. I'm okay with that." 

They pulled in front of Quinn's apartment building and Quinn paused a moment before asking. "Hey," she said. "I know it's late, but do you want to come up and hang out for a while?" 

Rachel hesitated. "Um," she said. "Okay." 

Quinn grinned. 

\--

Quinn's apartment was neat and girly. Rachel browsed through the collection of CDs and books and noted that they had some common tastes. 

"I haven't fully embraced the iPod or the Amazon Kindle," Quinn said with a chuckle. "Primarily because you can find a used CD or a used book for a lot cheaper than a digital CD or book." 

Rachel smiled. "I still have a turntable and a cassette player," she said. 

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Who are you, the Unabomber? Why don't you embrace technology a little more?" "I do," Rachel said. "I have an iPod, an iPhone, a Kindle and an iPad. I just like a lot of variety." "Who are you, Steve Jobs?" 

Rachel laughed. "Quinn." 

Quinn laughed, too. "I'm going to get a glass of water, do you want one?" 

"Uh, sure. Thank-you." 

Quinn came back a few moments later and passed Rachel a glass. "So what's the story with you and the chick who plays Glinda? I mean, she spent dinner intermittently molesting you." 

Rachel made a face. "I don't know!" she exclaimed. "She has a boyfriend, but she keeps feeling me up. She has no boundaries, and that's saying a lot on Broadway because we're in each other's spaces a lot and we're always undressing in front of each other back stage." 

Quinn was amused. "She asked me if we were dating." 

"She did? When?" 

"You were in the bathroom." 

Rachel sighed. "See? A profound lack of boundaries. What did you tell her?" 

"I told her not anymore. That's kind of the party line, right?" 

Rachel looked miserable. "I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean for this to continue on, and to force you to continue to lie." 

"It's okay," Quinn said. "I mean, believe me, I told worse lies." 

Like telling her boyfriend that he was the father of a baby that was really his best friend's. Rachel smiled crookedly. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. 

"It's okay. I just thought you should know." 

Rachel gave her a soft smile. "Thanks." 

They lapsed into silence and Rachel took a sip of her water and glanced around. "Your apartment is really nice." 

"It's kind of crappy," Quinn said. 

"It's not," Rachel refuted. "I like it." She smiled and stood up, setting the glass on the coffee table, on a coaster. "I should go. Breakfast with my mother tomorrow, and if I have eye bags, she'll scold me. You're still invited to come, by the way." 

"Your mother is really intimidating. She reminds me of my mother." 

Quinn was tempted to add 'except your mother actually seems to like you,' but that was just too bitter. Rachel smiled. "She is, kind of. I was intimidated by her when I first met, her too." 

That made Quinn pause, her brow furrowing in confusion, until she remembered that Rachel's mother was a surrogate and Rachel didn't meet her until she was fifteen. 

"I'm not even sure if she really likes me," Rachel admitted. "But she seems proud of me. You know, having a viable career and all. She was really proud of me after I got Elphaba. But she always seemed more interested in my career than in me, which is okay, I guess because it's the thing I'm most passionate about." 

Rachel doubted that if she weren't successful, Shelby would want anything to do with her, but she was successful, and consequently, Shelby did want something to do with her, so Rachel thought it was pointless to think in the hypothetical. 

"Well, aren't you some big deal? I mean, you've played some really big parts, right? And you're considered young for those parts or whatever, aren't you?" Quinn had no idea how that stuff worked, but she'd read about it in an article about Rachel on the way to the theatre. 

Rachel was hesitant. "Well, I've competed against more seasoned actresses for roles that I later won, yes," she admitted. "But I don't think I'm all that special. I'm not that different from the other actresses." 

"So humble," Quinn teased. "I'm sure it's an act." 

Rachel smiled, but it was faint. "Humility was never my strong suit," she admitted. "But I had to learn that lesson the hard way. Anyway. Seriously. I should go. I don't know where I'm meeting my mother yet, but I'll call you?" 

Quinn smiled. "Sure." 

Quinn walked Rachel to the door. 

"Hey," Rachel said, when she was at the door. 

"Yeah?" 

"Do you keep a sketchbook?" 

"Yeah," Quinn said. "Of course." 

"You should show me some of your stuff sometime," Rachel said with a bright smile. "I'd really like to see it. I bet it's good. And anyway, you've seen what I'm good at, so I'd like to see what you're good at." 

And then Rachel was gone. 

\--

Against her better judgment, Quinn ended up meeting Rachel and her mother for breakfast. Shelby was scolding Rachel for the bags under her eyes when Quinn approached the table. 

"Mother," Rachel said in exasperation. "I'm in green makeup for the entire show, no one is going to care about my appearance because no one will notice." 

"For the last time, Rachel. It's not about your appearance, it's about your health. I doubt you've had a good night's sleep in--" 

Rachel sighed in exasperation and stood up in relief when she saw Quinn. "Quinn!" Quinn smiled. "Hi." She turned to Shelby and smiled again. "Hello." 

"Hello," Shelby said. "Please, sit down." 

Quinn sat down and Rachel grinned at her. 

"So, Quinn's apparently from Lima, too," Rachel told Shelby. 

"You must be very glad you escaped, too," Shelby said drolly. 

Quinn couldn't help it. She laughed. 

"Hey," Rachel said. "Lima isn't all bad." 

"That's because you didn't grow up there," Shelby said. "You haven't lived in Lima since you were fourteen and you only go back a few times a year to visit me or your fathers." 

"Exactly," Quinn said. "If you grew up there, you wouldn't say 'Lima isn't all bad.'" 

"I was desperate to get out, too," Rachel said. "I hated it there, but when I think about it now, it doesn't seem that bad. More stifling than anything else, sort of like what Robert Redford said about growing up in Van Nuys. Not somewhere I'd want to live, but I'd live there before I live at Chernobyl. 

Rachel's mother looked amused. "I'd take my chances with the irreparable DNA damage, if I were you." 

"But you still live in Lima," Rachel pointed out. 

"I realize that. That is why I said if I were you." Shelby was amused. "What did Robert Redford say about Van Nuys?" she asked. 

"That it was a furnace that could easily destroy any creative thought that managed to creep into someone's mind." 

Quinn thought it was a very apt description of Lima, which would explain why her own mother was the way she was. 

"You would have been miserable in Lima if you had to stay there until college," Quinn said. She just knew it. 

"How would you know?" Rachel said. "You barely know me. And anyway, I didn't go to college. I'm your standard undereducated actress." 

"What do you mean she barely knows you?" Shelby interrupted. "I thought you two dated and it was serious." Rachel's eyes widened as she realized her mistake. 

Quinn suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Rachel may have been a good actress, but she was a terrible liar. Just terrible. "She always claims I don't know her because she believes, incorrectly, might I add, that I don't listen to her." 

Shelby looked at her. "Why would she claim that you don't listen to her, if you do?" 

"Because I'm admittedly high-maintenance and prone to histrionic pronouncements like the one just now," Rachel interrupted, regrouping admirably. 

Shelby still looked suspicious, but slightly less so. "All right," Shelby said. 

The rest of breakfast was less intense and Quinn left feeling full from an extremely good (and free!) breakfast and a little charmed by both Rachel and her mother. 

Rachel walked with Quinn to the subway stop and waited with her, making idle chit-chat. Finally, the train came and Quinn moved toward it. 

"Okay," Rachel said. "So I...uh...I'll see you around?" 

"You aren't getting on?" 

"No," Rachel said. "I live four blocks away so I'm just going to walk home." 

"Why'd you walk me then?" 

Rachel shrugged. "I thought you might like the company while you waited, although I realize that it is somewhat presumptuous to assume that you'd like my company at all." 

Quinn smirked a little. "You kind of have low self-esteem," she said bluntly. "Have you considered therapy?" "Oh, I can't tell a therapist about that kind of thing." 

"Why?" 

"It's personal." 

Quinn snorted. "What do you think therapy is for?" 

Rachel shrugged. "Sharing personal things, hopes, aspirations, dreams about my fathers, dreams about my mother, dreams featuring cigars, etcetera etcetera. I know. But I could never be in therapy because I'd never be honest enough with my therapist for it to be beneficial, I'm assuming anyway because I've never been in therapy." 

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "You never went to therapy after Devin..." 

Rachel's expression hardened, but only for a moment and only a little. "No," she said simply. "I didn't. I was twenty one and no one in the world was going to force me," she added, with just a hint of defiance which clearly indicated that a multitude of people had tried to get her to go into therapy. "It wasn't something I wanted to talk about" 

Quinn liked issue-y people because she knew she herself was issue-y. When her relationships failed, and it inevitably did, she could always blame it on the other person being issue-y, provided that the person she dated was issue-ier than she was. They almost always were. 

Quinn stared at Rachel for a moment and the only thing that she could think of was the word "issue-y." She wondered what it said about herself that she wanted Rachel's company even more now. Probably nothing good. 

The train pulled away and Quinn cursed when she realized she'd spent too much time talking to Rachel that she got distracted and forgot to board. 

"Hey!" Rachel yelled, chasing after the train and banging on it. "You forgot someone!" she called. "You forgot someone!" 

The train gained speed and of course, Rachel had to stop. She pointed at the departing train, one finger extended. "You are not serving your function of transporting a person from point A to point B, train!" she yelled after the train. 

Quinn stared at Rachel. Make that issue-y and crazy. 

But she didn't care that Rachel was issue-y and crazy when Rachel waited with her for the next train. 

\--

Quinn wasn't sure how it happened, or who reached out to whom or any of that, she just knew that over the next few months, she and Rachel started to hang out pretty regularly. Nothing sexual, just friends, and Quinn was okay with that because her life was pretty solitary and she liked having a friend who seemed more or less trustworthy. It's not that Quinn expected each and every one of her friendships to be deeply fulfilling or anything, but she was twenty-four now, she'd had her family turn their back on her, she'd had friends and boyfriends who turned her back on her and she'd given up a baby. She didn't want to bother putting up with assholes anymore like she had in high school, and she'd found that most people were assholes. 

Rachel wasn't exactly someone Quinn thought she'd be friends with-- Rachel was kind of an attention whore, she was anal-retentive, obsessive-compulsive and prone to rambling about everything from Broadway musicals in the 1940s to why liquid detergent was vastly superior to powdered detergent. She talked a lot more than Quinn would have preferred, but Rachel was incredibly genuine, really sincere and sweet-- Rachel's sweetness ran deep, even when she ranted about saboteurs. 

She wasn't someone Quinn thought she would have been friends with, but Quinn was glad they were. 

Rachel really liked attention, but she hated scrutiny, so they often went to some event or party, and Rachel basked in the attention just long enough until it turned to scrutiny and then Rachel and Quinn bolted. 

Quinn didn't get it really, not at first anyway. After all, people scrutinized the minutiae of Rachel's appearance and performance on a daily basis and that didn't seem to bother Rachel much, especially because it was usually admiration. But Rachel didn't like it when people scrutinized her life. Anytime someone asked her something personal, Rachel got some panicked look on her face. She was sort of dopey looking when she got that look, but only because Rachel could look completely unruffled when someone told her that she was kind of flat on a few notes and that it consequently ruined the whole show. 

"I'm like Tinkerbell, Quinn. I need applause to live!" Rachel told her once. 

Quinn had been thoroughly entertained by that. "You were really unpopular in high school, weren't you?" 

Rachel blushed. "Yes," she admitted. "But it was only because the other students failed to appreciate my talent and give me the proper adulation accordingly." 

So Rachel totally loved the attention at a party when someone complimented her on her performance or asked about what she wanted to do next or if there were any dream roles she could play. But once the attention turned to if she was seeing anyone or anything a little more personal, Rachel would manufacture a reason to leave and then she and Quinn would be out the door. That suited Quinn fine, because by then, she'd usually had a few free drinks and procured a few numbers and given hers out to a few other people. She'd had a few satisfying flings with men and women she met that way. 

Although she and Rachel went out to parties and such pretty frequently, they also stayed in a lot, too. It felt like dating, but without the obvious perks like kissing and sex. Quinn was okay with that because it seemed pretty obvious that Rachel just wanted to be friends, and in all honesty, Quinn had come to a point in her life where she didn't know if she'd ever get married or if she'd ever have another kid, so a lover was expendable. A friend, however, was not. She didn't have many friends anymore, but she really loved and valued the ones she had. She hadn't known Rachel long enough to love her, but she'd definitely valued Rachel and she was well on her way to loving Rachel. 

It took six months of really hanging out with Rachel pretty regularly that Quinn worked up the courage to finally show Rachel some of her sketches after Rachel gently asked a few times. When she was younger, she made friends easily and she recognized that most of them were just fair-weather friends. When she got older, she realized that fair-weather friends were a waste of her time and she wasn't going to show someone some of the most personal things about her to someone she didn't think would stick around-- or worse, mock her. 

Rachel went through the sketchbook, pausing at each page thoughtfully. Quinn watched Rachel's reactions anxiously, and she wondered if Rachel was only pretending to like them. Rachel was an actress, after all. She could believably pretend to like something. 

"I don't know anything about art," Rachel said. "But I really like these," Rachel said, after about the sixth page. "You're really talented, Quinn. Are you sure you don't want to pursue this professionally?" 

"So I can turn into an even bigger cliche? No thanks." 

Rachel frowned, confused. "What do you mean?" 

"You know, leaving a small town and moving to New York to make it as an artist. It's like something out of Great Expectations." 

Rachel frowned. "I may not have gone to college or most of high school, but I don't recall reading about cliches of that sort in Dickens." 

"The movie. You know, with Ethan Hawke and Gwenyth Paltrow?" 

"Oh," Rachel said. "Well, I don't think it's any more clichÃ© than moving to New York to pursue an acting career." 

"You're only saying that because you made it." 

"I have not. I haven't played Evita or Funny Girl and I didn't get to play the role I wanted in Oklahoma. And I haven't won a Tony. I wanted to win one by the time I was twenty three and I'm twenty four now." 

Quinn stared at her. "Were you always like this?" 

"Driven? Yes." 

"Ridiculous," Quinn corrected. "Anyway. I'm not sure I'd even want to be an artist, but I like art. But I like penguins, too and I'm not going to move to Antarctica to study them." 

Rachel pouted. "I'd miss you if you did." 

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" 

Rachel nodded. "Well, of course. We're friends." 

"Well, I am not moving to Antarctica or anywhere else for that matter, so I think you're safe from missing me." Rachel smiled. "That's very reassuring." She paused. "If you did move to Antarctica--" "I wouldn't," Quinn interrupted. 

"But if you did," Rachel said. "I'd still come to visit you. I could swim to the penguins and glaciers and sing to them." Rachel's eyes took on a faraway look. "I wonder if it would be like Happy Feet. Even just a little." 

Quinn stared at her. "Are you drunk?" 

Rachel blushed. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "Sometimes I just say whatever is on my mind. I don't have much of a filter between my brain and my mouth." 

Quinn feigned shock. "Seriously?" she asked. "You? But you're always so diplomatic, I never would have imagined!" 

Rachel smiled crookedly. "Your sarcasm does not amuse me" 

"No, but it does amuse me, so it serves its intended purpose." 

Rachel passed Quinn's sketchbook back to her. "You're very talented," she murmured. "And I always make that distinction very grudgingly." 

"It doesn't mean I'll make a career out of it." 

"Nothing says you won't though." 

\--

Rachel lived fairly modestly. Her apartment was nice and in a good neighborhood, her furniture was nice, her clothes were nice and Rachel never seemed like she was lacking money, but she didn't seem to be wealthy, either. Quinn wasn't sure what Broadway actresses were paid, but it didn't seem like she was so wealthy that she could just drop ten grand down in someone's lap and not feel it. Rachel was generous with her money-- always willing to pay when they went out-- it was to the point that Quinn felt a little embarrassed and wondered if Rachel thought that she only liked Rachel for the free meals. But she didn't seem like one of the Trumps, either. 

Quinn finally just asked because she was dying of curiosity anyway. 

"How did you afford to pay me ten grand to go out with you to the wedding?" Quinn asked. Rachel paused. "Why? Are you asking for remuneration for the time we've hung out?" 

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Wow, bitter party of Rachel." 

"Sorry," Rachel apologized. "Devin had ten thousand dollars in his savings account when he died," she said. "His parents and his sister were the beneficiaries on everything, but he left his savings account to me. It was just sitting in my savings account for three years and I couldn't touch it. It just made me feel too guilty, so I decided to get rid of it." 

Quinn nodded. "Oh," she said. Now she felt guilty for taking it. "How did you and Devin meet?" 

Rachel sighed. "Through his sister, actually. Jinny and I met in our pediatrician's office. I was fifteen and she was sixteen. I was seeing my doctor because I kept getting ear infections and strep throat and it was freaking me out. Nora was appalled that I was there alone, but I was used to it. She kind of took me under her wing-- like I told you, their family collects strays. Jinny and I got to be friends and then Devin and I became friends." 

"And then you started dating?" 

"Yeah, but that was a lot later on," Rachel said softly. "He's my best friend." She swallowed hard. "I don't miss my boyfriend, I miss my best friend," Rachel confessed softly. "It's not that I can't imagine dating anyone else, it's that I can't imagine dating someone and not being able to talk about it with him." She paused. "I'm not sure I can. I used to tell him everything and I don't feel like I can do anything anymore if I can't tell him about it." She swallowed hard. "I really need him" she said softly. "I always have. He was like, my true north and I feel really useless without him. Life isn't as good when you don't have a best friend." 

Quinn hesitantly put her arm around Rachel. She didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything and Rachel wasn't crying or even that upset, really-- she was just...she was sad and Quinn really didn't know what to say or do to comfort her. She pulled Rachel in close and she felt Rachel rest her head on her shoulder. They sat like that for a few minutes and then Rachel pulled away. 

"I'm thirsty. Want to get a drink?" 

"Sure," Quinn said. 

They left Quinn's apartment and walked to a bar a few blocks away. Rachel seemed to come out of her somber mood once they got to the bar and they only had three drinks each. Rachel was rambling and random and just herself and Quinn was relieved that she didn't have to do much of anything except put her arm around Rachel for a while and then throw back a few Jack and Diet Cokes. 

They walked back to Quinn's apartment. They watched a few DVDs and they must have fallen asleep because the next thing Quinn was consciously aware of was waking up because Rachel was crying. 

Rachel was curled up on the end of the couch, her sobs coming out in keening wails. "Devin. Devin. Devin," she pleaded urgently. "Devin." 

Quinn swallowed hard, wondering if bringing him up had done this to Rachel or if this was normal for Rachel. It didn't really matter at the moment because Quinn felt terrible. 

"Rachel," Quinn said quietly, touching Rachel's shoulder. 

But Rachel didn't respond and looking closer at the brunette, Rachel had her eyes close. "Devin." 

Quinn reached out and gently shook Rachel awake. 

"Rachel wake up." 

Rachel released a shuddering breath and pulled away from Quinn. She reached down to rub her left leg. It was sore, the way it always was when she woke up from this particular dream made worse by fact that it was an actual memory. She still remembered looking down at her leg and seeing bone pushed through skin and how her first thoughts were not about Devin, but about her leg. 'Please God,' she thought. 'Don't take my leg.' Her career had been building momentum and she was getting actual adult roles, not kids roles anymore, and she knew it would be over if her leg were amputated or something. Then she turned and saw Devin and she knew...she knew he was dead. There was no way he could have been alive. She would never be able to get that image out of her head. When Devin's parents took care of her while she recovered, she always felt so incredibly guilty for thinking more about her leg than about Devin, right before she remembered he was beside her. If the situations had been reversed-- he would have thought of her before he thought of himself. 

"Are you okay?" Quinn asked quietly. 

Rachel took another deep breath and wiped at her eyes, wishing that there were things the mind could un-see. "Yeah," she said. "Sorry." She stood up. "I should go." 

Quinn stood. "It's late, you should spend the night." 

Rachel gave her a tiny smile. "I'm embarrassed for myself." 

"I think you should have been more embarrassed when you made it onto that What Not to Wear list," Quinn said, hoping that if she just pretended that everything was okay, Rachel would actually be okay. 

Rachel grinned. "I liked that sweater!" 

Quinn covered her eyes, as if she could see that outfit again. "Believe me, it was an orange monstrosity." "I was trying to be adventurous." 

"You went too far, Rachel. Stick to the neutral colors you usually wear." 

"But I always look so boring." 

"Oedipus would have blinded himself for looking at you in that outfit even if he hadn't killed his father and married his mother." 

"Don't you feel that was unnecessarily hyperbolic?" 

"No." 

Rachel laughed. "Your couch is really comfortable." 

"And it's yours for the night." 

\--

A couple months later, during the last week of Wicked's run, Brittany and Santana came out to visit her, and Brittany wanted to see Wicked because she loved the flying monkeys. Quinn was apprehensive about asking Rachel for the tickets because Rachel was always paying for dinner or concerts or movies or whatever and Quinn didn't want Rachel to feel taken advantage of. But Brittany was a hard person to disappoint and Quinn found herself not wanting to disappoint Brittany, especially because it would mean making Santana mad. 

But Rachel was more than happy to give her the tickets and after the show, Rachel introduced Brittany and Santana to her castmates. Santana, as always, was unimpressed, but Brittany seemed really happy and Rachel seemed quite taken by Brittany, to the point it made both Santana and Quinn a little jealous. 

Then one night, over drinks, during their visit, Brittany very innocently asked Rachel and Quinn how they met and how they became friends. 

Rachel froze, because she of course, remembered how they actually met, but she didn't remember what story she was telling about the way they met. 

"Uh...." Rachel said, exchanging a look with Quinn. 

"Um..." Quinn said, looking back at Rachel. 

Quinn honestly didn't remember what story they were using. Something about a coffee shop. Or maybe a bookstore. She forgot. No one other than the people at Jinny's wedding ever really asked. 

"We met a bookstore," Rachel ventured timidly. 

Santana looked skeptical. "And you guys just became friends?" 

Quinn remembered their fake backstory now. 

"Rachel asked me out," Quinn said. "So we went out." 

"Right," Rachel said, picking up momentum. "It didn't work out, but we stayed friends." "I thought you said you guys never dated," Brittany told Quinn. 

"Uh, it's because I'm still closeted?" Rachel said, taking a blind shot in the dark. 

Santana raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking us or telling us? 

"A little bit of both?" Rachel asked. 

In spite of herself, Santana laughed. "You guys didn't meet in some weird underground sex club, did you?" Both Rachel and Quinn were appalled. "No!" 

Quinn glared at Santana. "Why would you even ask that? Why would you even think that?" 

"It's how Puck met Karin." 

Quinn was aghast. "Seriously? But she looks so sweet." 

"She's Russian. Russians are crazy" 

"Who's Puck?" Rachel murmured. 

"Baby daddy," Quinn explained with a small smile. "My baby daddy." 

Rachel smiled. "I really hope Puck is a nickname, because I can't judge you for getting pregnant in high school, but I can judge you for having sex with a guy with a ridiculous name." 

Quinn laughed. "It's a nickname" 

The subject was sufficiently changed and Rachel stayed for two more rounds, but politely excused herself because she had rehearsal in the morning. Once Rachel was gone, Santana smiled devilishly and leaned in close to Quinn. 

"Okay, now tell us how you and Rachel really met." 

Santana and Brittany were her two best friends and while Quinn knew they would mock her, she also trusted that they'd keep it to themselves. So she glanced around, made sure that no one was listening and she told them the full story. Everything. Quinn would later look at this as one of the bigger mistakes of her life, because really, when one tells a story in a bar, there is always at least one eavesdropper. 

\--

Quinn wasn't interested enough in celebrity gossip to follow it, so she had no idea what the hell was going on until she received a call from Rachel. She had no idea that anything was going on, so when she cheerfully greeted Rachel with a "hey you," she'd been completely unprepared for the string of expletives that greeted her and for the fact that Rachel was crying. 

"I thought we were friends," Rachel sobbed. "How could you tell them? Did you want more money? I would have given it to you! How could you tell them?!" 

"Rachel, what the hell are you talking about? What's wrong?" 

Rachel took a shuddering breath and then her voice was calm. Flat. "Just type my name in Google. You're good at that." 

Then Rachel hung up. 

Quinn was confused, but she suddenly had a sense of foreboding and she just knew. She typed in Rachel's name in Goggle and the first link was to Gawker. Quinn swallowed hard and clicked on it. And then there it was. The way that article was written, it made Rachel seem like some sex-crazed weirdo who had to troll for dates on the internet because she was still too damaged and fucked up to have a real relationship. Quinn did not fare much better because she came off looking like a whore. It was terrible. 

Quinn called Rachel back immediately-- more than once, but Rachel ignored her calls. Quinn called Santana and Brittany as well, to ask if they'd told anyone, but she didn't really believe they would do that to her, and when they denied it, she believed them. Someone must have heard her talking in the bar. Quinn cursed herself. What had she been thinking? 

She thought for sure she'd ruined Rachel's career and her reputation. But the thing about being Rachel Berry was that she had built a reputation for herself that was goofy and dorky in a Rachel Ray sort of way. No one seemed to really believe it, and though it got quoted in a lot of gossip blogs, it really hadn't ruined Rachel's career. Quinn read through some comments on the piece and someone had pointed out that both she and Rachel were from the same small Ohio town, so it was more likely that they'd known each other as children than met on Craigslist. 

It died down without ever picking up much steam. It blew over. Quinn wished the same thing happened with her friendship with Rachel. She wished it'd just blew over and they could go back to normal. But it didn't work out that way. 

Rachel continued to ignore her calls and emails and after two weeks, Quinn had enough. Wicked had ended its run, which meant that Rachel was free, at least, for a little while. Quinn took the day off work to drop by Rachel's apartment. She knocked, but no one was home. She thought that it was possible that Rachel was inside and had looked through the peephole and was now choosing to ignore her, but the apartment was really quiet. It was also possible that maybe Rachel was gone for the weekend or on vacation or something, but Quinn decided to take her chances and wait. 

She'd only waited for an hour when Rachel came back from her run. 

Quinn caught sight of Rachel first, saw Rachel stop and seem to be on the verge of turning away and running away, but Quinn called out to her. 

"Rachel." 

Rachel froze for a moment and then grudgingly approached Quinn. 

"What do you want?" Rachel asked flatly. "I don't have my checkbook on me." 

"I never told that guy about how we met," Quinn said softly. 

Rachel flushed and glanced around, paranoid that her neighbors could hear. She was lucky that most people seemed to think she was too boring to troll for a date on Craigslist, but Devin's family had believed it, so had her fathers, and her mother. She was embarrassed, ashamed and humiliated. And now everyone was worried about her all over again. 

"Shh!" Rachel hissed. "God, just come inside, okay? Stop broadcasting my personal business to the entire world." 

Rachel opened her door and gestured for Quinn to get inside. 

Quinn was relieved. She knew Rachel was only letting her in for privacy, but at least she wasn't getting kicked out on her ear. 

"It was my fault that it happened," Quinn said. "I accept that. But I didn't tell the guy who wrote that mean article. After you left the bar that night, Santana asked me how we really met, and Santana and Brittany are my best friends. I told them and someone must have overheard. But I would never have gone to, like, the press or some vagina with a blog to talk about you. I wouldn't do that to you. We are friends." 

Rachel looked skeptical. "You only told your friends? You didn't tell anyone else?" 

"No," Quinn said. "I wouldn't do that to you. I promised you I wouldn't and I didn't even know you back then. You're my friend-- I wouldn't do that to you!" 

Rachel crossed her arms. "And you aren't here, to like, I don't know, ask for more money to keep your mouth shut?" 

"No," Quinn said, and it honestly hurt her feelings that Rachel would have to ask. But she could also see it from Rachel's perspective. 

Rachel gazed at her steadily and the intensity of it was a little disconcerting. There was a long pause and then Rachel nodded. "Okay," she said. "I believe you." 

Quinn blinked. "You do?" 

Rachel nodded. "Yeah, it seems plausible enough to me." 

"Wait a minute, you ignore me for two weeks, and this is it? You believe me?" 

"Well, did you want me to make you do some jumping jacks or something?" 

"I don't get it. I told you in my messages and my emails that I didn't do it, and you ignored me!" 

"Well, you seem much more sincere and believable in person, Quinn. And anyway, I've been mad at you for two weeks." 

"And you're not mad anymore?" 

Rachel huffed and crossed her arms. "It is somewhat more difficult to be mad at you when you're in proximity to me," she admitted. 

Quinn smirked. "I'm very loveable." She paused. "Is everything okay with your family and Devin's family?" she asked softly. She knew that was the only thing Rachel really cared about. 

Rachel became somber again. "It's fine," she said flatly. 

"Really?" Quinn asked cautiously. 

Rachel avoided eye contact. "It'll be fine." 

\--

They started hanging out again-- not as much as before, and Rachel seemed a little distant, but at least they were hanging out. 

And then, as with friendships that were worth anything, things returned to normal. 

\--

They kissed one night. 

It was just a kiss-- short and sweet, and it wasn't even the first time they'd kissed each other. But it was the first time when lips met lips instead of lips meeting cheek or forehead. 

It wasn't anything remarkable-- just a kiss after dinner at Quinn's apartment while Rachel helped Quinn wash some dishes. 

They'd stacked the dishes to dry, and Quinn wiped her hands on a dish towel and passed the towel to Rachel who took it and dried her hands. Rachel passed the yellow dish towel back to Quinn who tossed it carelessly aside. Rachel rolled her eyes and picked it up and hung it on the handle of the oven. 

"OCD," Quinn teased. 

Rachel turned her head to smile and then Quinn leaned toward Rachel and impetuously kissed her. 

Rachel kissed her back and they kissed languidly until Rachel pulled away, looking absolutely panicked and grief-stricken. 

"I'm sorry," Rachel said. "I need to go." 

\--

Quinn was in a foul mood. It was Rachel Berry's fault. 

\--

24 hours after their kiss, Rachel showed up at Quinn's door, looking sheepish and embarrassed. "Hi," Rachel greeted. 

"Hey." 

"Can I come in?" 

"I'm still debating." 

\--

Quinn decided to allow Rachel entry, and it took a while for the conversation to get rolling, but it finally did. "I'm sorry," Rachel said quietly. "I didn't mean to run out on you... it's just..." 

"I get it, you're hung up on Devin." 

"I'm not though," Rachel said. "He was my best friend and we were broken up when he died. I miss him. I miss him so much, but I'm not hung up on him as my boyfriend. I told you already-- I miss him as my best friend. I just...I really miss him and whenever something good happens to me, I really want to be able to tell him and I..." she sighed. "And I can't. When you kissed me...I thought about how I couldn't wait to tell him and then I remembered I can't." 

Quinn swallowed. "Oh." 

"When we started being friends and it was kind of like having him back," Rachel said wistfully. "It's not that you remind me of him, because you don't," Rachel said bluntly. "He is way nicer to me than you are and he never makes fun of me the way you do--" 

"You're talking about him in the present tense, Rachel," Quinn said gently. 

Rachel winced. "I started to feel the same way about you the way I felt for him-- like you were my best friend."

"Oh," Quinn said softly. "Okay, so that's it then. We're friends. Just friends." 

It was a little disappointing. More than a little, really. 

"It's just...Devin and I almost ruined everything by dating. People think that best friends who date are going to be so much better off, but that's not how it works! It almost wrecked the best friendship I ever had...and things were so good with you as friends. And I really needed a friend more than I needed someone to have sex with or kiss. But I am attracted to you. I always have been. And the way I feel about you isn't just friendship." 

Quinn blew out a breath. "Okay," she said. "So what do we do? Because I asked you out the first time we went out at Jinny's wedding. And I kissed you, so I think you already know how I feel about you. So what do we do?" 

"I don't know," Rachel said. "I'm really terrible at dating. I mean, I told you, I'm not really dateable." She flushed. "I haven't dated anyone in over three years and I..." she blushed. "I haven't...uh...I haven't been intimate with anyone since then either." 

Quinn's jaw fell open. "Three years? How have you not exploded?" 

Rachel groaned and covered her head with her hands. "It's not that long!" 

"It is that long, Rachel. Seriously? No one? Nothing?" 

Rachel swallowed hard. "Uh..." she said, her voice cracking a little. "It gets worse." Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Why?" 

"I haven't even kissed anyone in three years that wasn't on stage or in front of a camera." Rachel's voice trembled. "You were the first person I kissed in three years." 

Quinn's eyes were wide. "Are you serious?" 

Rachel's cheeks were pink. "Yes." 

"But didn't you go on dates or anything? I mean, three years? 

Rachel was clearly mortified. "I did go on a couple dates here and there," she admitted. "But I never...I couldn't bring myself to do it." 

Quinn let out a breath. "Rachel, I think I kind of get why his family was so worried about you." 

Rachel smiled sadly. "I just miss my best friend, Quinn. We broke up because we didn't work as a couple, but I can't date someone who isn't at least as good as he was, because if I could talk to him and ask him for his advice, I'd feel really stupid telling him about dating someone who wasn't as good as him." 

"Why didn't you work as a couple?" 

Rachel shrugged. "I think we just wanted different things in life. He was my best friend, but that doesn't necessarily make someone a good boyfriend. We kind of grew into different directions." 

"So you're really not hung up on him?" 

"I am," Rachel said. "But not that way you and everyone else thinks." 

Quinn hesitated. "I'd really like to see where this goes, Rach. But I'm not going to compete against a dead person, not even if he's your best friend." 

"I know," Rachel said quietly. "And I think I have been ready to move on, it's just...when it's been so long, it just kind of gets easier to allow inertia to keep you out of the game" 

"Do you really feel ready?" 

Rachel shrugged delicately, making a face. "I don't know. I think so. I mean, it has been a little lonely. I really didn't feel it until I met you. You're the first person I met since he..since I lost him that I know he'd approve of. I really like you but it's really intimidating for me. I'm not certain I remember how to properly woo someone or like, do anything like this..." 

Quinn was amused. "What makes you think you're going to woo me rather than the other way around?" "Uh, because I'm clearly the woo-er and you're the woo-ee, Quinn." 

"What do you mean, 'clearly'? If it were 'clear' than I would be in agreement and I am not." Rachel huffed. "What do you have against being properly courted?" 

Quinn bit her lip to keep from laughing. "You are really lucky we met as adults because I really would not have liked you when we were kids." 

Rachel laughed, but then became suddenly serious. "Are you okay with the fact that I haven't..." she blushed again. "You know..." 

"I'll try to live with it," Quinn replied dryly. "What do you think I am? A sex addict? It's fine, it something we can work through. It's not like you have a tail or a third eye." Quinn paused and peered at Rachel's butt. "Do you?" she teased. 

Rachel blushed and instinctively covered her butt with her hands. "No!" she exclaimed, laughing. 

Quinn reached for Rachel's hand. "We'll start slow. It's called a date. Are you familiar with the concept? I know it's been a while," she teased gently. 

Rachel smiled. "You'll just have to take the lead on it." 

Quinn traced Rachel's lower lip with the pad of her thumb. "I'm going to kiss you, okay?" 

Rachel pulled back slightly. "It's been a while," she said quickly, looking panicked and intimidated. "I mean, I'm out of practice when it comes to off-stage kisses, so if you are disappointed, I assure you, you won't be disappointed for long, because I will endeavor to--" 

"Rachel," Quinn drawled. "You're fine. Shut up and just go with it." 

And Rachel did. 


End file.
